


Frank the Vampire Slayer

by skoosiepants



Category: Bandom, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992), Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-08
Updated: 2008-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skoosiepants/pseuds/skoosiepants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank presses a hand over his eyes. "Oh my god," he says. "My life is so fucking cool."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frank the Vampire Slayer

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive the general stupidness of this story, and also the many, many probable mistakes. This is based on Buffy the Vampire Slayer the MOVIE, not the series. There's a huge difference. It's sort of slapdash, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

_An eatery_

Frank doesn’t give a shit about the senior formal. “Seriously, I don’t fucking care,” Frank says.

“Frank, Frankie, this is so so important,” Brendon says around his lollypop, hands waving. “We’re saving the _earth_ here. From, like, acid rain and fumes and shit.”

Frank arches an eyebrow. It’s a fucking school dance; Frank’ll spend the whole night smoking up in the corner with Jon.

A pair of jackasses stumble past their table, clipping Ryan in the back of the head. Frank thinks most days Ryan needs a swift kick in the head, but he’s not fond of a bunch of drunken douches taking liberties.

“Watch it,” Frank says.

Jackass number one flips him off, then counts out enough in pennies, dimes and quarters to get a cup of coffee from the waitress. Jackass number two stares at Frank with creepy huge eyes and grins around tiny, tiny teeth. Like, hamster teeth. He lights a cigarette and breathes it out, like it’ll offend Frank’s sensibilities instead of it just being really fucking hot. And then he tries to lean back against the counter and misses, because he’s completely bombed.

Frank grins back at him.

Brendon pokes his side. “Frank, just ignore them, god. They’re such losers. We need a, a, catch phrase, all right, something to put on all the posters.”

Spencer looks up from his cell phone and says flatly, “Hug the earth.”

Jon giggle-snorts.

Brendon says, “Hell, yes, Spencer Smith, you’re a certified genius.”

Spencer rolls his eyes. “Brendon, god.” Brendon’s roped all of them into party planning by force. Nobody wants to be there except Brendon, but Brendon’s so damn enthusiastic about everything. He’s got a lovable charm to him that makes him irresistible to certain types of people. The Spencer-type of person, specifically, since they’re doing some sort of approximation of dating that involves Frank stumbling across them sucking face more often than he’d like.

Most days, though, Frank can’t fucking stand him.

Jon nudges his foot under the table and Frank cocks his head at him. Jon makes a not at all inconspicuous toking gesture and jerks his thumb towards the door and, see, this is why he puts up with these guys. They’re totally generous with their stash.

  
 _The side of the road_

“Gerard, see, see,” Bert says, leaning back and squinting off the side of the wall, down into the woods. Gerard follows his gaze. It’s a long way down.

“Need to call Mikey,” Gerard says. Or he thinks he says it. Mikey’ll be worried. Bert just laughs, which sets Gerard off giggling, because Bert has, like, this maniacal, high pitched laugh, and, like.

Oh, wait, wait. Gerard’s on his back in the dirt, legs kicked up on the wall, wheezing laughs, because all he can see are Bert’s feet, not even his feet, like, his _soles_ , man.

“Those _guys_ ,” Gerard says, and everything’s a little bleary. “Those guys were—Bert?” Gerard doesn’t remember where they are. Somewhere between the bar and his house, somewhere, somewhere. He laughs again.

“Not really a good place to nap, dude,” a voice says above him.

Gerard blinks. “Whazza?” Someone’s hauling on his arms.

“Come on. Jesus, you’re heavy,” he says, and then the world goes dizzy and Gerard passes out.

  
 _The gymnasium_

They’re goofing off. Brendon’s doing a shaky handstand, t-shirt pooled over his face, and Spencer’s leering at his exposed chest.

Frank ignores them and jumps his skateboard off the bleachers. He doesn’t have much momentum, but instead of landing on his face he tucks and rolls and Jon gives him a wolf whistle when he rolls right back onto his feet.

“I’m awesome,” Frank says. Frank is motherfucking _awesome_ , no doubt.

Spencer checks his watch and says, “Shit,” and, “Let’s get out of here,” because it’s probably almost time for basketball practice, and none of them want to get caught by those fucking grunts.

Frank waves them on. “I’ll catch up, wanna try that jump again,” he says, but really he’s waiting around for Bob. Bob’s the man. He tries to walk home with Bob as often as possible, even though Bob isn’t much of a conversationalist.

Frank does a perfectly executed handstand while he waits, then walks an impressive five feet before rounding it out with a couple cartwheels.

“Well, aren’t you a regular little acrobat.”

Frank spins around. There’s a short guy with a cap and a trench coat hanging by the back wall. Creepy. “Dude, what the hell.”

“I wasn’t sure.” The guy cocks his head. “Still not sure, but at least you landed on your feet.”

“Are you talking?” Frank flips his board up and tucks it into his arm, then stalks off towards the doors.

“Hey, hey, wait a sec. I’m Brian.”

Frank turns and walks backwards, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “And I’m out of here.”

Brian arches both his eyebrows. “No, you’re Frank. The chosen one.”

Frank snorts, but he slows his steps. He rubs the side of his nose and rolls his eyes.

“Aren’t you curious?” Brian asks.

“Um. No?”

“Okay, well.” Brian pushes away from the wall and starts making his way across the gym floor. “I still need you to come with me.”

“Oh yeah, I’m totally going to do that, right.” Frank bobs his head, thinks if Brian gets close enough he can just whack him with his board. Shame to risk damaging it, though.

Brian stops just out of range, like he knows what Frank’s thinking. He slides his hands in his pockets and says, “I need to show you something.”

“What, like your dick?”

Brian grimaces and pinches the bridge of his nose. He murmurs, “Can’t believe my _life_ ,” and then says louder, “No. No, I need to show you something at the graveyard. It’ll explain everything.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Frank.” Brian sounds pained. “Just. The graveyard. You’ll like the graveyard, promise.”

“Aren’t you supposed to entice me with candy?” Frank screws up his face and taps his chin. “That might actually work. Have any Mike And Ikes? Jujubes? ”

Brian looks like he has a headache. It’s kind of awesome.

“You’ve been having dreams,” Brian says.

“Duh.” Frank can’t believe this guy. “Everyone dreams.”

Brian shakes his head, says, “You’re a peasant. Or sometimes you’re a slave,” and that’s, okay, that’s pretty accurate.

“That’s weird.” Frank makes a face. “I haven’t told anyone—”

“You’re always fighting a guy.”

Frank blinks. He is. He’s always fighting with this short, pale dude. “He kicks my ass every single time.”

Brian smiles at him. It’s a grim, unpleasant smile, and Frank thinks, _oh fuck_ , and Brian says, “Come on. Let’s go to the graveyard.”

  
 _Gerard’s house_

Gerard wakes up to Mikey poking him in the chest. “Go ‘way,” Gerard says, batting at his hand.

Mikey leans back, pushes his glasses up his nose. “Bert’s at the window,” he says.

“Bert. What the fuck.” Gerard rubs at his eyes. When he blinks at him again, Mikey’s just pointing towards the window.

He’s in Mikey’s room; he notices that first. Then he realizes Mikey’s room is upstairs, and Bert’s _at the fucking window_. Gerard rolls out of bed and stumbles over and Bert grins at him through the thin pane of glass. “Let me in, fucker,” he says. He sounds—off. He looks sort of. He looks even more like shit than usual.

Gerard glances down. “Holy shit, he’s _floating_.”

Mikey says, “I, um, don’t think he’s Bert anymore.”

Gerard presses his fingertips to the glass and Bert hisses and copies him. “This is fucking _awesome_ ,” Gerard says breathlessly.

Mikey takes a step back. “I don’t know. I think he wants to eat me.”

“I’m not gonna let him eat you, Mikes,” Gerard says absently. He’s not all, like, lets be undead together or anything. “I mean, maybe he can—”

“Gee.”

“What? It’s a _little_ cool, right?” It’s a little cool, Gerard thinks.

Bert says, “Mikey, Mikey,” and taps on the glass and Mikey takes another three steps back.

  
 _The graveyard_

“ _Fuck_ me,” Frank breathes, hands on his knees.

“Sorry,” Brian says from his sprawl on the ground, “this isn’t that sort of after school special.”

“No shit.” This is the one with all the fucking _vampires_.

Brian struggles to his feet, kicks the undead dude with the giant piece of wood sticking out of its chest. “Now are you ready to listen?”

  
 _Brian’s lair_

Frank sits opposite Brian, hands neatly folded on the small table. “So. I’m a vampire slayer.”

“ _The_ Vampire Slayer. And this is way late in the game for training, but.” Brian shrugs.

“And I.” Frank’s just trying to get this all straight here. “Kill vampires?”

“Implied by the _slayer_ part, really.”

Frank presses a hand over his eyes. “Oh my god,” he says. “My life is so fucking cool.”

  
Frank beats the shit out of a punching bag, and then he tries to beat the shit out of Brian, and Brian doesn’t even get mad when he sweeps his legs out from under him. Seriously. Fucking _awesome_.

And then Brian breaks out the weapons.

  
“You threw a knife at my head!”

Brian shrugs. “You caught it.”

Frank waves his hands around and soundlessly opens and closes his mouth a few times because really? _Really_? Finally he says, “You threw a _knife_ at my _head_!”

Brian smiles.

  
“They can never know who you are,” Brian says, pouring himself what looks and smells like a stiff alcoholic drink.

Frank’s panting from the fucking obstacle course, Jesus _fuck_ , he needs to give up smoking. Tomorrow. “What?”

“They can never know your name, Frank. Once the master knows your—”

“Hey, hold up, master?”

“The guy you fight. The guy you’ve been fighting all your life, every life, since the beginning.”

Everything’s starting to sound a lot more ominous. You know, besides the whole bloodsucking undead bit. “But I can kill him,” Frank says.

Brian shrugs. “Maybe.”

  
 _Ray’s van_

Ray likes Mikey and all, but Gerard is kind of weird.

“Um, I’m not sure this is such a good plan,” Ray says.

Gerard shoves a duffle filled with what looks like kitchen utensils – a spatula? - into Ray’s hands. “Sure it is,” he says.

“No. No, really, I think we should just swing by and pick up Bob and get out of town.” Ray thinks this is a reasonable suggestion. Ray’s always thought of himself as a reasonable guy. He thinks: get as far away from the vampires as possible. _That_ is a good plan.

“Who’s Bob?” Gerard asks.

“Um, Bob and me have school? So we can’t really skip out.” Mikey scratches the back of his neck.

“Fuck school,” Gerard says. “We’re saving the _world_.”

  
 _Somewhere else_

“Uh, Pete?” Brendon taps Pete’s shoulder hesitantly. Pete’s been kinda polite and all – you know, besides the whole kidnapping thing – but it’s really dark and musty and Brendon has no idea what’s going on.

Pete ignores him. He leans over a, well, Brendon doesn’t want to say _casket_ , but it’s sort of—casket shaped.

Pete says, “Patrick? Hey, ‘Trick, I brought you a snack.”

Brendon brightens a little at that. He’s totally hungry, too.

  
 _An alleyway_

Frank whistles as he slowly rolls his board down the asphalt. He says, “Wow, I’m all alone. This is sort of spooky,” gaze darting around the alley. “La, la, la, I’m tiny and helpless.”

He winces at a sudden pain in his abdomen, presses a palm over his stomach. He probably shouldn’t have eaten that last burrito. And then there’s a full-on vampire in front of him, and Frank barely has to think; his body sort of goes on autopilot. There’s a satisfying crunch when Frank kicks his foot into its face, and then he’s got a stake out and drives it into its heart.

Brian says, “Impressive,” in this totally I’m-not-impressed voice.

“Whatever,” Frank says. “I set a trap. I knew what I was doing.”

“And if there’d been any more here you could’ve been dead. Rule number one: no walking down dead end alleyways.”

Frank rolls his eyes. “I can handle myself fine.”

“Sure you can.” Brian drops an arm over his shoulders, steering him back out onto the street. “You’ve got lots of advantages, Frank, you just have to learn to be smart about them.”

Frank shrugs Brian off and stuffs his hands in his pockets. He killed a vampire. He thinks that should warrant a little more praise.

“Stomach cramps?” Brian asks.

Frank says, “What, the burritos were bad, right?”

“Early warning system. You’ll always know when vampires are nearby if you pay attention.”

“Oh,” Franks says, “That’s just _great_.” Debilitating stomach pain for the win. This gig is starting to sound a little tired.

Brian presses a finger into Frank’s cheek. It’s only a little sore, from where the vamp had gotten in a good hit. “You heal fast, though,” Brian says, and Frank perks up. That’ll be awesome to test out.

“Can I regenerate?” Frank asks brightly.

“No.”

“Bummer.”

  
 _The school cafeteria_

“You’re acting strange, man,” Ryan says to Frank.

Frank says, “Not really,” and shrugs.

Ryan scratches the side of his jaw and cocks his head. “Yeah?”

“Nope,” Franks says, eyebrows arched. “Same old, same old.”

“Hey, has anyone seen Brendon lately?” Jon asks. He’s staring at Brendon’s empty seat, like maybe Brendon’s really there, only Jon just can’t see him.

Frank looks at Spencer.

Spencer says, “He’s being weird,” then takes a sip of his soda. “He’s lurking around in a hoodie, even though it’s _sweltering_ , and then he got all hissy when I wouldn’t make out with him in the supply closet.”

Brendon gets weird - or _more_ weird, because Frank doesn’t think Brendon’s ever been normal - occasionally.

“Hey, so,” Frank shoves his chair back and gets to his feet, “I gotta take care of some things. Catch you fuckers later.”

“Sure you’re not acting strange?” Ryan asks. He’s got about fifteen different scarves on. Frank doesn’t think he ever has to worry about Ryan getting bitten by a vampire, because they’d give up way before they reached skin.

“Dude,” Frank says, “yes.”

  
 _Ray’s van_

“Ray, now would be a great time to get out of here,” Gerard says, like he’s being helpful.

Ray jams the key into the ignition and the engine turns over and turns over and then finally catches. “This was the worst idea ever,” Ray says, and for once Gerard doesn’t argue. “Tell me that wasn’t Bob.”

“I don’t think it was Bob,” Mikey says.

“Mother _fuckers_ ,” Gerard says, and he’s grinning a little now, because Gerard is one fucked up dude, Ray thinks.

And then an arm rips through the roof of his van and they all start screaming and Ray swerves the fuck off the road.

The next thing he knows, they’ve smashed into a tree and there’s an undead, unattached arm on his _lap_ , and Ray pops open the door with a shriek and tumbles out, which would’ve been a great idea if there wasn’t vampires everywhere. “Shit. I hate you, Gerard.”

“Ray, hey Ray?” Gerard peeks out. “Oh.”

A one-armed vampire kicks Ray in the shin. “You took my fucking arm off,” he growls. “I’m gonna rip out your entire throat.”

“Oh, hey. That’s um.” Gerard seems like he’s going to protest, which is nice and all, but Ray doesn’t think talking it out is going to do any good.

One-armed vamp grabs Gerard’s collar and tosses him out of the van. Gerard rolls to a stop, sprawled out on his back. “Ow.”

Then there’s a blur of motion, and then the one-armed vamp is staggering back under a whirling onslaught – a little guy, seriously, and he’s got them all staked or running away within minutes.

“What the hell?” Ray says.

“Hi.” The dude waves at them, grinning manically. “Oh, hey, Mikey.”

Mikey climbs out of the van, pushes his glasses up his face. “Hi, Frank.”

“And drunk dude! Here, let me help you—”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Gerard says, but he lets Frank pull him up onto his feet, then overbalances and Frank ends up half carrying him.

“So, thanks,” Ray says.

Another guy steps out of the shadows and Ray freezes up before he realizes he’s totally not a vampire, since Frank grins at him. The guy says, “You on your way out of town?” nodding towards the van.

“No way,” Gerard says. A little woozily. Ray thinks maybe he hit his head. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna throw up.”

  
 _Frank’s house_

Frank’s amped up. “You guys can stay the night here, if you want,” he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet in the middle of the living room. He can’t get the stupid grin off his face, and Gerard – drunk dude’s name is Gerard and he’s Mikey’s older brother, huh – is grinning just as stupidly back at him. Awesome.

Frank’s entire body aches, but in the best way possible. There’s a gash in his arm that’s seeping blood, but when he presses a hand to it, it comes away tacky, almost dry, and he can already feel the skin starting to knit itself back together.

“That’s really cool,” Gerard breathes, leaning in, fascinated.

“I know, right?” Frank rocks back on his heels. He squeezes Gerard’s wrist. “I’ll get you guys some blankets and pillows.”

  
 _A basketball game_

“Why are we here?” Frank asks.

“Because Ryan has a crush on that cheerleader,” Jon says, then ducks when Ryan tries to swat the back of his head.

Frank scans the court, then purses his lips. “The one who just stole the ball and looks like she wants to eat the whole team?”

“What? No, the blonde one over there by the—hey, where are you going?”

Frank doesn’t answer Ryan, just bounds down the bleachers, does a roundhouse kick to the back of the cheerleader’s – Ashlee, he thinks – head, and she whirls around and glares at him, and he sees that tiny flare of recognition.

“Oh, shit,” he says, just before Ashlee takes off out the gym doors.

  
 _A sleeping amusement park_

“Fucking motherfucker Ashlee Simpson,” Frank curses, just before he stakes her in the heart.

“Frank, Frank, oh my god, Frank, are you okay?”

Frank whirls around to see Gerard standing there, wringing his hands. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, full of fear and adrenalin, because that’s the closest—he doesn’t know what would’ve happened if Ashlee had told the master his name, but he’s sure it’s nothing good.

Gerard takes a step back. “Sorry, I just—you seemed like you might need some help?”

“Yeah, not so much.” He swipes at his forehead and sighs. “Thanks, though.”

Gerard beams at him.

“Isn’t this nice.”

“Um.” Frank sucks in a breath as he looks past Gerard. “You.”

“Yeah, me.” He looks different, but the same. A trucker hat and worn jeans doesn’t disguise the fact that it’s the guy Frank dreams about every night. Frank wants to yell at him, but all his words get stuck in his throat.

The master grins. “Come here,” he says, beckoning him with one hand.

Frank’s feet move forward, even though he doesn’t want to, even though every bone in his body is trying to get him to stop.

“Look at you,” the vampire says when Frank’s within touching distance. He lifts a hand, curls a finger under Frank’s chin.

Gerard shouts, “No,” and rushes towards them, only to get tossed aside.

Frank can’t do anything about it. This guy has the most amazing blue-green eyes.

“Patrick.”

The guy, Patrick, smiles, but doesn’t look away from Frank, doesn’t break eye contact. “Schecter. Good to see you again.”

“He’s not ready,” Brian says.

“No? Too bad.” Patrick’s hand travels down Frank’s neck, and Frank’s skin fucking crawls, but he can’t even take one tiny step back.

“Patrick, _no_ ,” Brian says, and one of Patrick’s eyebrows arches up, and the one-armed vampire from the other night, standing beside him, snickers.

Frank can feel Brian’s hand shackling his arm, and he wants to shout at him to back the fuck up, to get away, but he can’t, he can’t, and then Patrick’s arm flies out, and a knife - Brian’s knife, how the fuck did he think he could best Patrick if Frank can’t? – and Frank’s shaken out of whatever spell Patrick has over him as Brian drops to the ground, the knife in his chest.

“Brian,” Frank whispers.

Patrick crosses his arms over his chest and smirks down at him. “It’s been a pleasure, Schecter,” he says, and he says it like he _means_ it, and Frank feels a hot flare of anger, anger that won’t do any fucking good.

Patrick barely looks at Frank again as he turns and walks away. “Come on, Pete,” he says to the one-armed vamp.

Pete says, “But what about the Slayer, ‘Trick?” hurrying after him, and Patrick says, “He’s not ready,” just loud enough for Frank to hear.

  
 _Brian’s lair_

First? Frank’s really fucking angry.

He pounds at the punching bag and throws stakes at the practice dummy and then he curls up in a corner of the room and fucking sobs.

And then he pulls himself together and goes back to beating the shit out of things, because Patrick is going down.

  
 _The street_

“Frank, Frank, wait up,” Gerard says, but Frank doesn’t stop or slow down, and Gerard’s panting by the time he catches up with him, wheezing a little, if he’s honest, and the cigarette hanging out of his mouth probably doesn’t help. He flicks it onto the sidewalk and grabs Frank’s arm.

“You should get the hell out of town, Gee,” Frank says, but he matches his pace to Gerard’s slower one.

Gerard snorts. He’s not going anywhere, not without Frank at least. “I’m. I’m sorry about Brian,” he says. He hadn’t been conscious for the whole thing, but, but. Brian’s body. And he’d seen Frank’s devastated face.

Frank shrugs. “He’ll regret it.”

“Yeah,” Gerard says. “Yeah, Frank, but are you—”

“I’ll be ready,” he says. He has to be.

His cell vibrates and he tugs it out of his pocket. It’s a text from Ryan: _rembr sen formal dude bden will prob killu if u dont show_

Frank rolls his eyes. “Oh my fucking god, seriously. Senior fucking formal.”

  
 _The street, after Gerard and Frank are gone_

Bert can’t believe his fucking luck. Frank fucking Iero, the Vampire Slayer. It looks like he has a senior formal to crash.

  
 _The gymnasium_

Brendon had taken the Hug the Earth theme and run with it. Frank’s kind of impressed. He figures he’ll say hi to Brendon, prove to Ryan that he wasn’t acting strange, and then he’d be off to find Patrick again.

But then Gerard shows up with a bag slung over his shoulder and says, “Hey, um, it looks like maybe they found you,” and then the gym doors burst open and there’s—there’s _Brendon_ , what the fuck, flanked by a pack of vampires.

“Don’t anybody invite them in,” Frank yells above the music.

Ryan fiddles with the ends of a scarf and says, “Oh, but, they’re seniors? So I kind of already invited them.”

  
 _The locker room_

“I can’t believe my boyfriend’s a vampire,” Spencer says.

Jon blinks blearily at him. “Dude,” he says, passing Spencer the joint. “Dude, you’re dating Brendon?”

Spencer inhales slow. He curls one knee up, grins at Jon. “Oh yeah. But now,” he shrugs, “could be interesting. Doesn’t have to breathe.”

Jon giggles. “Yeah,” he says, “yeah.”

  
 _The gymnasium_

“This is fucking ridiculous.”

“Send out Frank,” Brendon says, “and no one has to get hurt.”

The weird thing is that Frank thinks Brendon probably really means that, but the vamps to his left and right are totally not going to stand by that promise.

Frank says, “Alright, yeah,” anyway, and then turns to Gerard. “You stay here and help barricade them out, okay?”

Gerard flaps his hands. “But Frank—”

Frank grabs Gerard’s ears and pulls his face down and bites at his lips. He’s a little desperate and messy, but what the fuck ever, he’s going to his possible _death_ here. Then he presses his forehead against Gerard’s and says, “I’ll be right back,” and takes off for the doors.

  
 _An abandoned building_

Frank’s hoping the vampires will chase him away from the dance, but only a few trail after him, and none of them slam into the stairwell he’s running up, but his stomach’s cramping, so he knows they’re still close. And then he stumbles right into Pete.

Pete cackles and Frank makes a face and pulls out a stake, only to freeze when he hears Patrick’s voice not much further up the stairs.

“Frank,” he says, and Pete cackles again.

Frank scowls. “You’re getting really annoying,” he says, and then stabs a very surprised Pete in the heart.

Pete’s eyes go round. He clutches his chest and staggers backwards and says, “You killed me. Frank, you. Patrick? ‘Trick, you let him kill me? Fucking _harsh_ , dude, _ow._ ”

“Sorry, Pete,” Patrick says, only he doesn’t sound all that sorry to Frank.

“I mean, _seriously_ , ow, this hurts like a motherfucker,” Pete says. Frank watches him drop to his knees, slump sideways. Pete lets out another litany of, “Ow, ow, ow, _ow_ ,” and then Frank’s ninety-nine percent certain he’s dead.

“Frank, come on,” Patrick says, and Frank turns to stare up at him, and, seriously, he doesn’t look very much like a vampire master. He’s got a Dr. Acula t-shirt on and a Cubs hat tipped back high on his forehead, so Frank can see his eyes.

For a moment, Frank’s helplessly drawn in.

Patrick doesn’t even move towards him, doesn’t take his hands out of his jeans pockets. He just says, “You and me, Frank. We’re one.”

And then Frank remembers how Patrick fucking stabbed Brian and how Brendon’s a fucking _vampire_ now and the pure rage shakes off any thrall Patrick has over him. He shoves Patrick, hard, so hard and unexpected that Patrick fumbles backwards and falls right through the stairwell window, shards of glass exploding everywhere.

  
 _The gymnasium_

“Bert, you don’t want to do this, man,” Gerard says.

Bert is perched over where he’s got him pinned to a table, grinning. “Sure I do.”

“No, no, listen,” Gerard says, and then gathers all his strength – which, admittedly, isn’t all that much – and pushes, rolling them sideways.

He says, “Sorry, Bert,” and stabs a stake through his heart.

  
 _The gymnasium, again_

Patrick apparently doesn’t take too well to being pushed out a window.

It’s okay, though. Frank’s itching for a fight.

“I’ve run out of patience,” Patrick says.

Most of Frank’s fellow students are huddling back along the walls of the gym – and hey, Frank spares a glance for all the dead vampires and thinks they all did a pretty awesome job of holding it together - but Gerard shouts, “Frank, catch,” and Frank finds his hand curling over a stake.

“I’m going to kill you,” Patrick says, “and then I’m going to kill every single one of your friends.”

Frank says, “You can try,” but when he lunges forward, Patrick easily knocks him aside, wooden stake skittering out of his hands.

Patrick grins and pulls a fucking sword off some holster strapped across his back, which is actually pretty fucking cool. But then Frank thinks, _oh shit, sword_ , and rolls away just as the steel whips through the air to land on the polished gym floor. Frank jumps and grabs a flagpole off the wall and brings it up just in time to block another blow, vibrations making his muscles tingle.

“Fuck,” Frank says, and then he pushes forward, watching with some satisfaction as Patrick takes another surprised stumble, like he didn’t think Frank would even bother trying to fight back. Fuck that noise. He takes advantage of Patrick’s inattention and tosses the flagpole aside, punching Patrick right in the fucking face.

Patrick’s head snaps back, and then Gerard’s sliding a bag of stakes across the floor towards him and it only takes a split-second for Frank to ram one home. He does a fucking crane kick to the end to really push it down deep.

Patrick looks almost as stunned as Pete, only he doesn’t take as long to die.

Frank’s breathing so hard he thinks he might start to hyperventilate. Holy fuck. Gerard steps up next to him and reaches for his hand, and they both stare at Patrick’s prone body, like maybe they’re waiting for it to twitch, become undead again.

Gerard takes a shuddery breath and says, “Oh my god, Frank, I think I’m in love with you.”

Frank lets out a semi-hysterical giggle.

  
 _An abandoned building_

“Seriously, fucking _ow_.”

  
Fin.


End file.
